


Sparkage

by WolfwithSnakeEyes



Series: To Continue or Not To Continue . . . That is the Question [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Hyena Xander Harris, M/M, Merged Drusilla and Xander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 03:19:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfwithSnakeEyes/pseuds/WolfwithSnakeEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The paths to take, two are the choices, two of the way.” She glided away from him then, twirling. “The first is riddled with choices made wrong, love lost and found on the red stained road to hell.” She looked up and in to his eyes, “My William would leave me-“</p>
<p>What would happen is they took the second path? Everything changes, and a new world is born in their making.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparkage

**Author's Note:**

> So this is when Dru and Spike come to Sunnydale, though admittedly a little earlier then expected. I am not sure if I am going to continue this and probably won't unless I actually have an idea foe the storyline... I welcome ideas though, and will give full credit.
> 
> So if you are the type to hate reading unfinished works, this might not be the story for you.
> 
> I do not own Buffy, or have any rights to it, this is for fun.

Spike smiled softly as he danced in a circle with his Dark Princess. She was weak, feeble even, in her attempt to keep swaying. She sang to the stars, eyes glistening in askance, receiving only answers she understood.

“Spike,” her voice was slow honey as she gazed as him, “The stars know.”

“They know what my Dark Plum?” Spike tilted his head.

“The paths to take, two are the choices, two of the way.” She glided away from him then, swirling. “The first is riddled with choices made wrong, love lost and found on the red stained road to hell.” She looked up and in to his eyes, “My William would leave me-“

“Never pet,” Spike tried.

“And I would become a new mommy. Daddy will fall once, twice, and then be vanished from us in place of the white in his heart and in his head. Then not-my William shall be torn in to, buzzing in his head and in his heart by Daddy’s infection. Ordered in sequence but happening not in order. Horrible, horrible for us and our family; we would all burn, till dust consumes us.”

“Dru, honey, there must be another way. You said two paths.” Spike urged.

“Oh yes the stars sing in joy, praise this path.” Drusilla giggled.

“What path is that pet?”

“Find my offspring find my branches where they roam in the mouth of hell. To become one, to be undivided and merged at last, to the final of my line.” She shimmied in his arms, electricity taking her over, “Me but not. We shall turn and twist and become more, me and the kitten. Become yours to the fullest, Daddy no longer able to take hold. Gain all the nasty little bits:” she squirmed, “Loyalty and love.” Twisting her way out of his grasp again, her movements took on more of a salsa, clapping.

“How’s that luv, no offspring to been had?”

“From my womb,” she rubbed her belly, “All from me, a baby made in pain and agony. Not of father’s rights and without consent. The babe was taken away and placed in stone houses. All without Mummy.”

“Luv?” Spike found he was furious, but spoke softly so as not to upset her. “Did Peaches know?”

“His doing,” she nodded her head, “Then he waited for my womb to swell with the swine he forced to lay me babe.”

Spike breathed, he couldn’t hold onto the anger. It was after all Angelus who had saved his Dark Plum in the end. “Alright Luv, we have some work to do.”

Dru smiled lazily, “I get to run in the sun again Spike, I get to dance with the daisies.”

Spike shook his head at her mumbling, hoping it wouldn’t be too late when they finally did track down the end of her line.

o~O~o

Spike stalked the shadows as he watched the yellowing house across the way. It must have been nice at one time. The paneling white, with a trim yard and a white picket fence; no longer though, the paneling was falling off along with the shingles, the fence was half falling down and the yard was so over grown a jungle cat could live there comfortably without notice. He had been standing there since sun down, waiting and watching just as Dru had let on. Jessica Harris previously Lavelle lived just beyond that blue cracked door; coming home just moments ago from what looked to be a dinner job.

She was a piece of work, that one; pretty in her prime, but ugly as the years weighed on her. She had faded dark auburn hair, pulled back into a prim bun, wrinkles aging her face at least ten years, and dead brown eyes. She wouldn’t do in the least. Not compatible with his Princess in the least.

He crouched, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. Hopefully the boy would be a fair better piece. He hunkered down to wait him out, knowing he would be home sometime tonight.

Spike eyed the house and listened with his ears open as the beefy man that had come home just after his wife, sloshed through the house, already in a drunken haze of anger. He yelled at her, making her submit, all but raping her. He had no hope for how the boy would be, though stayed none the less. After all, a boy raised as such would be either the spitting image of his father or a cowering mess of crazy. And Dru had enough crazy.

It was roughly around eleven when Alexander—by all accounts, and information gained—walked down the sidewalk, a blonde bint and a scarlet woman at each side. The girls babbled on to him as they approached the house and he babbled right back, because that was all Spike could describe the litany of words bursting from their mouths as. It wasn’t out right talking, to jumbled and random to even be considered a normal form of speech. The girls reeked of power, the blonde made chills run down his spine and electricity flood his system, a slayer. The red head, different but just as intense, shrouded in untapped darkness; she had to be a witch.

“Surrounded yourself with power then,” Spike grinned. That was certainly interesting.

The girls left him on his porch, as he waved them off; protecting them from his life. Spike finally got to see him fully then as he stood facing towards him. His breath caught. The boy was devastatingly beautiful, definitely taking after Dru in linage. He had her large brown eyes and high cheek bones. His smile was wide and showed teeth, almost looking feral, as it curled into his cheeks. His hair was a dark brown, almost black, floppy with a little bit of curl. He stood much like his Dark Plum, holding himself the same way she did, like he was fluid, and it showed in his movement. That lithe build was only an inch or so taller than himself, also like Dru. Spike almost swooned.

“See you later Xander,” the red head called.

“Bye Xander,” the blonde echoed.

His name was Xander then, not Alexander or Alex. How original. Spike grinned around his cigarette. The boy was perfect; he thought to himself, his previous doubts pushed aside.

Spike watched him from then on. Learning all he could, nothing unimportant, after all he would become Dru, just as Dru became him. Or at least that’s how she explained it.

He learned of his familial ties—which lay with the two girls he had seen before and the Slayer’s watcher—knowing that he may have to put up with them for his luv’s sake, unsure of how exactly those relationships would pan out. He watched as his father beat him silly, and his mother ignored his plight, taking everything he had not to rush to his aide just yet. Spike took in all of Xander’s usual haunts: the library at the school, the firecracker’s house (Willow, was her name), the Bronze, and a few cemeteries that he would patrol with the Slayer.

Spike also learned his eating habits. That Xander loved above all else chocolate and Twinkies, that he hardly ever had a proper meal, and that on occasion, with no one else around, he would buy pigs blood from the butcher and drink it down.

He learned the secrets the boy held tightly to his chest. Knew all about the hyena possession and how it was supposedly exorcised from him. It wasn’t, just suppressed some; the proof was in his eyes. They would flash when the slayer’s back was turned and he was fighting, they would flash when he was angry, when he drank the blood, and mainly at night when he would sneak out after Buffy and Willow would drop him home, and prowl the streets, working the shadows.

Xander was unappreciated in his little gang; it was clear as day, that they knew next to nothing about him, and that they put little effort in caring for him. It made Spike furious. Didn’t they see the gem in front of them, all rough around the edges, and just primed to be polished like? Well, fairs fair and Spike was one to take advantage.

Now all he had to do was seduce Xander before all hallows eve, just to make the whole ordeal less painful, and to make an impact so that the boy wouldn’t run after. Spike smirked, time to get to work.

o~O~o

Xander shivered as he entered the Bronze, feeling like the eyes were watching him again. It had been happening for a little over a week now, the feeling that he was being followed, and the knowledge that he was being stalked. Buffy had taken his plight seriously for all of a minute before moving on to Angel fantasizing, Willow following her right along with woeful doe eyes. Giles just told him that was what he got for now knowing of the evil undead, that he should just get used to it, and that something will always be watching.

He moved through the crowd heading for his girls, at their usual table.

“Girls,” he greeted.

Willow smiled as Buffy greeted him back, “Boy.”

“So, how was the slayage?” Xander asked.

“Dead tonight, only two fledges,” Buffy offered shrugging her shoulders. She pepped up with an Angel-like figure entered, but deflated when it proved not to be him.

“Did you run across any on your way here?” Willow asked nervously. Her attention was souly on Xander, and he could smell the pheromones wafting off her; it was overwhelming sometimes to try and fend of the urge to see if she could handle him. But she was meek, not yet in her prime, and he knew it would destroy her utterly. So he reigned in his hyena, and waited, someone would come along soon that could handle him.

“No,” he didn’t mention that he thought his stalker was keeping the demons at bay. He never mentioned to the girls exactly how much of a demon magnet he was usually. They had no idea that when he walked alone, anywhere, after sunset, more often than not he would run into more than a few fledges or lower rank demons. That is, until very recently. It was actually getting on his nerves that nothing went after him. Those fights were the one thing that helped take the edge off enough to keep his beast at bay during the day.

Xander needed something to cut the edge off. He was all jittery nerves, agitated violence, and feral quirks, without an outlet for any of it. He needed to be active, or at least exert some energy before he snapped. “Dancing tonight ladies,” he gestured to the floor by the band where the bodies moved like waves in an ocean, grinding together, but in essence flowing as one. It was why he came here tonight.

“Moving bodies together in a swaying motion,” Willow asked, “Sounds of the good.”

“I could dig it,” Buffy affirmed.

“Let’s dance,” Xander urged, getting up from his seat he pulled them along to the dance floor. His face split into a wolfish grin as he took both their hands and they moved to the edge of the dance floor by the stage. He placed himself in front of them, mainly Willow, to starve off any unwanted pursuers, protecting his pack.

Spike leaned against the bar, his hips jutted out and his posture intimidating, as he watched them. Red, as he had taken to calling Willow, was slinky as she danced, like she knew what she wanted to portray but wasn’t there yet. The Slayer was all sensuality, rubbing up and down whatever partner happened to be beside her at the time, all teasing and flirtatious. Xander made Spike’s nonexistent breath catch. The boy was all jerky moves and flails, which with the right partner to guide him could only be sex on stage. They danced for more than hour, Willow taking a couple drink breaks, with Buffy only taking one just before the girls left Xander to his own devices.

“You sure you don’t want to come on last patrol?” Buffy asked.

“Yeah, then we could go back to my place and watch a marathon of bad movies about kung fu fighting,” Willow chirped. She was smitten with him; Spike could smell it all over her.

“Nah promised the rents I would be home tonight, and I wanna stay and dance for a couple more songs, this band is better than the average.” Xander grinned at them, ushering them toward the door with a flippant hand.

“See you tomorrow then,” Willow called to him, disappointment written clearly all over her face.

Xander sighed; he didn’t actually think he was going home tonight, had even brought his backpack, letting the bartender keep it safe until he finished. It wasn’t unusual for him to pull a stunt like this recently. In the past he would take her up on the offer but he could smell the wafts of pheromones directed at him steadily getting worse and he couldn’t take it. He would probably head to the school and stay in the library, on the lone tattered couch.

He moved back into the throng of bodies and began to dance again, closing his eyes and just feeling the music. He liked this band; it had a tribal thrall to it, and calmed the hyena stuck in his head. It was only a minute or so later when his arm was grabbed. Xander turned, his lips pulled back into a snarl, as he caught sight of the jock that had ahold of him.

It was Jason Cale, a football star and the wrestling team’s ace. “Harris honey, what have I told you about being sensual, you get me and my buddies all worked up,” he thumbed over to the little gang of athletes at the edge of the dance floor. “What would you say, to giving us a little show,” He leaned down to Xander’s ear, “Here,” he paused, a slow grin spreading over his face, but a wicked gleam taking hold in his eyes, “And then maybe a private dance for me later tonight—and sometime early tomorrow morning.” Xander sneered. Jason and his friends had somehow gotten ahold of alcohol; he could smell it on Jason’s lips.

“I’m god here thanks, and I don’t do shows,” and Xander pulled his arm free from the robust youth, looking him up and down, “Well not to the likes of you and your flunkies,” Xander sneered.

“No I think you should,” Jason tried to tower over him, cornering him into the stage at the corner, where the shadows dominated. He was angry, and clearly used to people fawning for him or cowering at his feet. Xander’s reaction to his proposal was not something he expected. Even the boys he approached in the past would do him, the pleasure all theirs, as they took it like a whore.

“You alright there pet?” The British accent hit him hard, making him shiver. Xander looked over to a dangerous looking man, blonde, with stunning blue eyes that were shadowed.

“Just trying to dance,” Xander said.

“I could see that, quite a piece you are. Also saw this lot try and have away with you.” He held out his hand, offering it to Xander, “Can’t have that now, can I?” He was cheeky.

“Sorry dude, but he’s taken,” Jason tried to assert.

“Well aware of that ain’t I? You are taken luv, aren’t you?” His eyes burned into Xander, and he found that he was walking toward him. His hyena crooned, but didn’t explain why.

“Hey,” Jason grabbed his wrist and Xander acted instinctually, grabbing his middle finger and pulling back until he heard a crack. Everything happened in a flurry of motion then. Jason went down hard, a scream leaving his lips as his buddies rushed to his aide, and the blonde was at his side in an instant.

Jason looked up at them, a dazed Xander, who was wondering what had gotten into him, and the blonde bad boy that spelled trouble, who had an arm around Xander’s waist pulling him close and wearing a grin the size of the UK.

“Said he was taken, didn’t I?” The British punk spoke, his voice huskier then before, “Thought you knew.” He steered Xander away into the middle of the throng of bodies that paid no heed to incident that had just occurred. After all stranger things had happened, it was Sunnydale after all.

“I-I holy crow! Thatwaskindofamzing. I-I-I justdidthatoninstinct. Nevermeant—nevernevermeant tototo _hurt_ him. Thought I was in control, I was in control, why did I lose control?” Xander looked to the blonde beside him, and it clicked as the scent wafted towards him. “It’s you!” he pointed accusatorially at Spike, “You are the reason. She reacts to you!”

“I only caught about 87.4% of that pet.” Even Dru’s ramblings weren’t so bad as this boy’s ninety to nothing babble. He scratched the back of his head, clearly trying to work out everything the boy had said.

“You’re my stalker,” Xander came to his conclusion.

Spike grinned at him, “Right in one Luv.”

Xander tried to back away, but the dancing bodies surrounding him made a wall, forcing him back. Xander’s eyes widened just a bit more, smelling Spike’s scent again flair at him like a neon sign, and he whispered, “You’re a vampire.”

Spike slid up to him, letting no room exist between their bodies as he swayed them back and forth. “Name’s Spike,” Xander shivered, “Though, been known to go by William the Bloody, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Spike,” Xander whispered again, feeling faint. He had read up on the Aurelius line after Deadboy had made an appearance, wanting to be fully prepared for any outcome. Spike was known for his exceptional violence, and the fact that he was one of the only vampire’s that had the ability to truly love something, obsessively so. Xander thought back, reaching for the facts. He was a poet in roughly around the 1880s and turned by Drusilla when he was around 27 years old.

_What else? What else was there? Poet—from the 1800’s—turned by Drusilla when he was around 27 years old—part of the Aurelius Line—fourth member of The Scourge of Europe._ Xander listed off the facts trying desperately to find anything help him to fend off this particular piece of evil undead.

Spike continued on as if Xander hadn’t said anything, or froze in place. “And you, pet, are a primal.” Xander’s head whipped up eyes wide. Spike chuckled.

_How did he know that? How could he know that about me?_

Xander’s mouth was dry; this was not a creature he could fend off. “How?” he managed to croak out.

“Can sense it on you luv, took me a while though to figure what exactly you were though.” Spike pulled him closer, swaying them back and forth. “But all the puzzle pieces lined up neatly in a row, it was cake and whiskey from there.”

“No one else,” Xander’s voice caught at even the thought of his friends figuring out what had happened to him. What they did to him.

“No,” Spike lowered his voice sensing Xander’s distress, soothing him, “No pet, no one else knows, or cares to.” Spike could visibly see Xander relax then. He just let go of all the tension, and Spike was sure if he let go the boy would melt to the floor. Xander let out the breath he was holding, and his head dropped to the vampires shoulder. “My pet, you are such a pretty piece.”

Xander closed his eyes hard, not understanding. He wished to pull away, to tense up again, and be prepared, but he couldn’t. They Hyena had too much control, urging his instincts on.

“Why is she reacting to you,” Xander asked.

“She knows that something bigger is happening here, and that we haven’t much time.”

Xander pulled back, “What do you mean?”

Spike smirked at him, and Xander seized he took in that expression. He had a feeling he pressed the big red button that isn’t supposed to be touched. “All in good time,” Spike whispered. Xander quickly looked around, noticing that they weren’t on the dance floor any longer and instead over by the exit. _Stranger Danger, Stranger Danger,_ was flashing in his mind’s eye, and his world was enveloped in darkness. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, any feedback is appreciated.
> 
> Grr Argh,  
> SnakeEyes


End file.
